


A Mask Can't Hide Love

by D_elfie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff, Handers Reverse Bang 2018, Love, M/M, Orlais, Orlesian Balls, Party, Reverse Big Bang Challenge, The Winter Palace (Dragon Age), crashing a party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 19:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15032123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_elfie/pseuds/D_elfie
Summary: While travelling through Orlais, Anders hears about a lavish party at the Winter Palace and Hawke makes sure his love gets to attend.





	A Mask Can't Hide Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2018 Handers Reverse Bang. My first time doing anything like this and I got artwork from the amazing [mypurplesummer](http://mypurplesummer.tumblr.com/).

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/eilinel/28090356247/in/dateposted-public/)

 

* * *

 

Orlais had never really been Hawke’s cup of tea but Anders… Oh, Anders was enthralled.

It started in Val Royeaux, where they’d purchased their first masks. He’d cooed over the detailing in the metalwork and the plushness of the lining. Anders had been living proudly in poverty when Hawke first met him, so he had had no idea that Anders had such love of finery. The moment he found out he swore to indulge Anders; anything Anders wanted, Hawke got for him.

By the time they reached Halamshiral Hawke had been forced to get an additional horse to carry all the items he’d purchased for Anders. Anders now had multiple masks to match specific outfits, expensive jewellery to adorn his neck and ear, and so much silk that Hawke was sure they were keeping the silk traders in business. Sure, Hawke had purchased a few items for himself as well, but he found himself uncomfortable in Orlesian fashion. It was too tight, too… fussy.

As they travelled through Orlais, Anders seemed to become a different person. Kirkwall behind them, he seemed to relax. Justice seemed to withdraw. Anders slept more, ate more, and told witty jokes. Hawke wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he was falling more in love with Anders each day. This calm, soft Anders was a stark comparison to the Anders from Darktown. Hawke realized it wouldn’t matter who Anders was, he’d always love him.

They found an inn in Halamshiral as the sun was setting and stabled the horses. It wasn’t a high-end establishment but in Orlais even average was expensive. Hawke was thankful for his inheritance – this being on the run thing was really costly.

While the inn had a dining room, Hawke decided to take Anders out for dinner. One thing Hawke would say for Orlais was that it knew its food. There was a cafe or restaurant on nearly every corner. It wasn’t hard to find somewhere romantic.

A short man with a thick Orlesian accent greeted them at the door and lead them to a small table. The place was dim, lit only by the table candles and the occasional chandelier over the larger tables.

Dinner was, as to be expected, delicious. Anders had fawned over the chocolate dessert like he’d never had chocolate before. He’d been doing that a lot in Orlais and Hawke wondered how many luxuries Anders had been denied in the Circle. No more.

As they rested, drinking coffee from tiny cups that Hawke was afraid he’d break just by picking up, Hawke reached across the table and took Anders’ hand in his. He rubbed his thumb across Anders’ knuckles – just a small gesture to say “I love you”.

Leaning back, Hawke listened to snippets of the conversation around them. He didn’t _mean_ to eavesdrop but being on the run meant paying attention. They needed to stay one step ahead of their pursuers and listening to chatter in the streets had saved them more than once. Most of the talk was about an upcoming ball at the Winter Palace. Based on what he heard everyone who was anyone would be there.

“I wish we could go.” Anders sighed, twisting his coffee cup in his hand. He was staring down at it wistfully.

“Go where?” Hawke interlaced his fingers with Anders’ and held his hand, looking intently at him.  Hawke would take Anders anywhere, as long as he got to go with.

“The party,” Anders responded in a tone that told Hawke he should have already known the answer. He really should have.

“Then we’ll go.”

Hawke watched Anders’ face – what he could make out behind the blasted Orlesian mask – and grinned. Anders’ eyes widened and he blinked back at Hawke like an owl caught in the lantern light. His hand tightened in Hawke’s and a smile slowly spread across his face.

“Truly? Anders asked in wonder.

“Truly. You want to go, we’ll go.”

“How?”

“My type of magic,” Hawke said with a smile and winked.

“Oh no…” Anders pulled his hand back and ran it through his hair, one of his nervous gestures. He left his hair down most of the time now.

“Don’t worry, love. I’ve got this. You want to go to the party at the palace, we’ll go.” Somehow.

They finished their coffee in silence. Hawke’s brain whirred as he tried to figure out how to get them into the Winter Palace. They were fugitives, so even if Hawke’s family name could get him in, it wouldn’t be a safe option. Dressed as the help? That wouldn’t make Anders happy. Maybe he could buy invitations and a fake Orlesian title…

As they walked back to the inn, hand-in-hand, Hawke watched the market stalls and looked for the less savoury people – his kind of people. He spotted a couple potential fences and made note of their locations. He’d come back after Anders was asleep.

When they got back to the inn, it was a quick wash using the basin and then straight to bed. Hawke lay still, pretending to sleep. With a day of travelling behind them, it didn’t take long for Anders to fall into a deep sleep.

Hawke slipped carefully from the bed and pulled on his clothes. He carried his boots in his hand until he was down the hallway, finally putting them on at the top of the stairs. 

The common room of the inn was empty and Hawke slipped out the door without being seen. He walked purposefully back to the market square where he’d spotted his targets earlier. He wasn’t concerned they wouldn’t still be there.

He wasn’t disappointed when he arrived.  While the honourable people of Orlais slept, the thieves played. He glanced around the market square and selected the most likely candidate. The man he selected was short and round, reminding Hawke of a pear covered in velvet and gold. Hawke sidled up to him, hand resting on his coin purse.

“What does it take to get into the ball at the Winter Palace?” Hawke asked casually.

The man looked Hawke over and scoffed.

“More than you could possibly pay.”

Hawke took pleasure in people assuming he didn’t have money. He’d never really _wanted_ money and getting his inheritance hadn’t changed how he dressed or behaved – except maybe buying his loved ones gifts. Hawke tilted his head to the side and smirked.

“Guess you don’t want the sale.” He quickly looked around the market and pointed at another man. “Perhaps he will accept my business.”

The man let Hawke take three steps before he laughed and gestured him back.

“Fine. Fine. How many people are you trying to get into the ball?”

“Two,” Hawke said.

“Two, hm? I can do that.”

There was some haggling and arranging of terms, but thirty minutes later Hawke was paying for two invitations and identities. He and Anders would be Ferelden dignitaries, as their Orlesian wouldn’t pass close inspection. Plus, since the Orlesians felt Fereledens bred like nugs and there was always some new noble from a backwater that no one had heard of, it was easy to make one up.

The invitations would be slipped under the door of their inn room the next night, and the ball was on the night after that. It was cutting it close, but Hawke wasn’t left with many options. He shook the man’s hand and headed back to the inn.

Anders was still fast asleep when Hawke crept into the room. He eased the door shut and tiptoed over to the bed. He quickly shed his clothes and slid into bed beside Anders. When Anders didn’t move, Hawke let out a relieved sigh and quickly fell asleep himself.

 

* * *

 

The day of the Winter Palace ball had arrived and Anders was in a frenzy. At the last minute, he’d decided he needed a new outfit. Despite the dozens of pieces they’d picked up since arriving in Orlais, he felt none were right for something as extravagant as the Winter Palace. Hawke quickly acquiesced and just handed Anders his coin purse.

“But… what about you?” Anders asked, staring at the heavy pouch in his hand.

“I’ll be fine. I have the perfect outfit already,” Hawke said with a smile and kissed Anders’ cheek. “Now go have fun finding an outfit and meet me back here before sundown. You don’t want to be late to the fancy shindig.”

“Yes, we do. Fashionably late.” Anders grinned and let out the most adorable excited giggle as he slipped on his boots and dashed out of the room.

Hawke chuckled as the door closed behind Anders. Excited Anders was one of his favourite Anders. Well, that and just-woke-up Anders. Or just-saw-a-cat Anders. Or… really, every Anders was his favourite Anders.

He hadn’t lied when he said he had the perfect outfit. The moment Anders said he wanted to attend the gala, Hawke had known what he would wear. It was one of the few things he’d brought with him from Kirkwall and he’d never had the chance to wear it.

Hawke wandered over to one of the packs and dug down deep to the bottom. He pulled out a burgundy silk robe and gave it a hard shake to unroll it.

Malcolm’s Bequest.

It was one of the only things he had of his father's and it meant the world to him. Hawke ran his hand down the soft material, fingers playing over the white details on the chest. His father had worn the robe the night he ran away with his mother… at an Orlesian ball. How could Hawke _not_ wear it now?

He laid the robe out on the bed and lovingly smoothed down the wrinkles. Hawke stood back and stared at it for a moment, eyes misting over as he thought of his father and mother and Bethany and Carver…

“Not the time, Hawke,” he said ruefully to himself. He shook his head to clear away the melancholy and focused his thoughts on Anders and the party. He searched through another pack until he found a pair of black pants to match the robe. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and polished his bracers, pauldrons, and greaves. He wasn’t going into the war zone that was an Orlesian party without at least some of his armour, but he couldn’t go in with road dust on it either.

It took all the morning to get his armour presentable. By the time his stomach rumbled, he could see his face reflected back in the metal of the pauldrons.  “Perfect,” he murmured and laid the last piece on the bed next to the others.

Anders still hadn’t returned and Hawke decided to venture out in search of food and a little gift for Anders. He wanted the whole evening to be special. He fished another money pouch from his bags and headed out to the market.

There were street food vendors in the market, and Hawke picked up a few small items to nibble on as he browsed the other stalls. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for but he knew he’d know when he saw it. He picked up a gold earring and turned it over in his hand.  He set that down and moved to another stall. He ran his fingers over fancy purses and intricately embroidered neck scarves. Nothing spoke to him.

Giving up, Hawke started back towards the inn.

That’s when he saw it. The light of the sun glinted off one horn and nearly blinded Hawke. _If there was ever a sign from the Maker_ , Hawke thought, _that was it_.      

Sitting on a marble display was an elaborate half mask. The lines were perfectly designed to accentuate eyes and cheekbones, making even the stone display beautiful. There was filigree in the centre of the forehead, sweeping to a point to the curve of where the mask rested on the nose…. And the horns. The horns were what sold it. Curving from the temples were beautiful ram’s horns, polished to perfection.

“Nice, isn’t it?” A woman’s voice broke through the fog of awe that had overtaken Hawke.

Hawke cleared his throat and nodded. “Gorgeous. How much?” He asked without preamble.

“It’s not for sale,” the merchant replied. “It is a showpiece.”

“Rented, then?” Hawke asked hopefully.

“Rented?” She tilted her head to the side and watched Hawke for a moment. She looked him over carefully. “For you?”

“For a… friend,” Hawke replied.

There was a minute of silence as they stared at each other. Hawke wasn’t sure what the merchant was looking for but after a time she nodded.

“I’ll sell it to you for 200 royals.”

Hawke swallowed. He tested the weight of the purse with his hand. He’d have enough but… He looked at the mask again and sighed.

“Deal.” He reached out a hand and they shook.

The merchant wrapped the mask in soft velvet and handed it to Hawke. Hawke handed over most of what was in his purse and walked back to the inn.

Anders was back when Hawke arrived. He was a whirlwind in the room, laying out pieces of his outfit on the bed and on the chair and table. Hawke looked around and laughed.

“It’s like a brothel exploded.”

“Hey!” Anders turned and glared at Hawke playfully. “Oh! What’s that?”

Hawke moved the mask behind his back and grinned. “A surprise. For later.”

“Later?” Anders pouted and Hawke couldn’t help but smile. He was just so adorable. Hawke set the mask gently on a bare spot on the bed before wrapping an arm around Anders’ waist. He pulled him in and kissed him.

“Find everything you need?” Hawke asked as he released Anders.

“Oh yes!” Anders went back to fussing with a deep blue cloak with a colourful feather mantle. It was reminiscent of Anders’ coat from Kirkwall. “I think I have everything. You will love it.”

“You could wear a grain sack and I’d love it,” Hawke said with a note of affection. 

“But I wouldn’t. Those are quite scratchy and would chafe like mad.” Anders made a slightly rude gesture towards his crotch and Hawke raised an eyebrow.

“Guess I’d just have to get you out of it quickly.” Hawke grabbed Anders in another embrace, kissing down his stubbled jaw.

Anders squirmed until Hawke released him. “We need to get ready! We’ll be late!”

“What happened to being fashionably late?” Hawke asked as he started removing his clothing anyhow.

“There’s fashionably late and then there is just plain late. One is good, one is social death.”

“Well it isn’t like we have social standing here, so what does it matter?”

“It matters,” Anders said matter-of-factly as he also started undressing.

They dressed in relative silence. Hawke shot glances at Anders, admiring him as he slowly transformed himself into a Ferelden nobleman. He caught Anders watching him a few times as well.

Hawke finished dressing before Anders and had to help him into his cloak. Hawke ran his fingers through the feathers as he leaned close to murmur in Anders’ ear, “You are gorgeous.”

Anders blushed and pulled back. He looked Hawke up and down before grinning. “Not bad yourself.” The grin fell away and he squinted. “Is that your father’s robe?”

“Yes.” Hawke’s voice caught a little in his throat.

Anders glided a hand down Hawke’s chest and rested it over his heart. “You look amazing. He would be so proud of you.” Anders leaned forward and kissed Hawke. When they needed air, Anders stepped back. Hawke felt moisture on his cheeks and brushed it away.

“Now for the masks,” Hawke said and scooped up the package wrapped in velvet.  He offered it to Anders, who took it gingerly.

When the velvet was peeled away, Anders squealed. “Oh! This is absolutely magnificent!” He slipped the mask onto his head, adjusting it until it sat properly. He went to the small looking glass on the wall over the basin and admired himself, turning his head this way then that. When he turned back to Hawke he had a huge grin on his face.

Hawke couldn’t help but stare. While he’d admired the lines of the mask while it sat on the display, it was something else entirely when on Anders. It brought out his eyes – brown gold glittering in the candles of the room. The swooping design made his jaw and cheekbones more angular and the mask perfectly framed his elegant nose. For a moment, Hawke didn’t even breathe.

“Well? What do you think?” Anders prompted when Hawke stayed silent. He was running his fingers along the swirl of one horn.

“Perfect,” Hawke croaked out. He cleared his throat before continuing, “You look just… perfect.” Hawke couldn’t find any other word to describe Anders. Anders decked out in teal silk and blue velvet and polished metal. Anders of the copper hair and caramel eyes. Hawke swallowed the flutter in his chest and scooped up his own, full-face mask. 

Masks in place, they descended into the common room. Surrounded by merchants and wealthier farmers, they stood out in their finery and received numerous looks.  Anders preened under the scrutiny, but Hawke felt out of place. He would have felt more at home sitting with the patrons of the inn and gossiping over an ale.

Outside, they climbed into their rented carriage, sitting on the same side so Anders could snuggle up against Hawke.  It wasn't far to the Winter Palace, but they were caught in the traffic of the other carriages going to the ball and it was nearly an hour before they were walking up the steps and in through the front door.

Inside, Anders stopped dead. Hawke had to pull him to the side and out of the way of other guests. They received a few glares and a couple mutters of “uncivilized Ferelden dogs” for the interruption to the flow of the guests. Hawke bristled but Anders just laughed. It had an excited and nervous edge to it.

“Everything is so…” Anders trailed off, waving his hand at the decorations, bright lights, tables laden with extravagant food, and guests decked out in all their finery. “Fantastical.”

That was a good word for it, Hawke thought as he looked around. He adjusted his mask, not because it was crooked but because he _felt_ crooked. He felt completely out of his element and was afraid he’d do something to get them removed, or worse, identified.

While Hawke was worrying, he felt Anders tug on his sleeve. Anders leaned in close and whispered, “Come on. Let’s get a drink!”

They wandered further into the palace and Hawke scooped two crystal glass off the tray of a passing servant. He handed one to Anders. He tipped his mask up to take a drink… and quickly downed the entire glass. Perhaps he _was_ an uncivilized dog. He found he needed the liquid courage to get through the night.

Anders, on the other hand, sipped at his drink. He seemed to fit in seamlessly with the Orlesian court. Even if he stood out, in the best way possible. Hawke caught more than a few men and women gazing at Anders as they walked through the ballroom. Hawke puffed up with pride and linked his arm with Anders – some of the looks changed to disappointment.

When Anders had finished his drink and their glasses had been deposited on another passing servant’s tray, Hawke led Anders to the dance floor. It had been years, but Leandra had ensured all her children knew how to dance.

Hawke wrapped one arm around Anders’ waist and took his hand with the other. They waited for the music to start, and then Hawke whisked Anders around the ballroom. Anders’ eyes seemed to light up as they started to dance and he giggled. Hawke pulled Anders in close, chest-to-chest and smiled. “Having fun?”

“Oh yes,” Anders said breathlessly. He glided effortlessly with Hawke and laughed with joy as Hawke spun him and then dipped him low. It was a noise Hawke wanted to hear for the rest of his life. One he’d tried so hard to find back in Kirkwall. 

As the song ended, a tall, broad man approached from behind Anders. He tapped Anders lightly on the shoulder and Anders turned. The man bowed and held out a hand. “May I have this dance?”

Anders glanced at Hawke questioningly and Hawke shrugged before nodding. Anders clearly loved the dancing, so why not allow others to guide him around the floor? Hawke backed up and immediately regretted being so nonchalant about the idea.

The man drew Anders in as tightly as Hawke had and began moving. They were graceful together – the man leading Anders easily cross the floor. Hawke enjoyed watching Anders move but felt a tightness in his throat as he saw the man lean in to whisper in Anders’ ear only to have Anders laugh. That was his laugh.

The man was replaced by a woman. This time Anders led and he was just as graceful leading as he was following. Hawke didn’t feel the same jealousy as he watched Anders charm his female dance partner and took a moment to find more sparkling wine.

When Hawke returned to the edge of the floor with the glasses, Anders was dancing with yet another man. Even with a mask, Hawke could see this man was handsome. His physique was spectacular. He was graceful. Commanding. Hawke bristled. He set the glasses on the railing and wandered down to the dancefloor. He tried to keep his walk casual, even as he felt a need to steal Anders away… Hmm, not a bad idea.

The music stopped and Hawke took the opportunity to swoop in. He linked his arm with Anders and leaned close to murmur, “Want to find somewhere a little more…. quiet?”

Anders was flushed from the dancing and the pink in his cheeks darkened further. He nodded with a smile. He bowed politely to the man he’d been dancing with before allowing Hawke to lead him off the floor. Hawke grabbed up the glasses of wine, both in one hand, and set off to find a quiet corner.

Most of the quiet corners were already occupied. Hawke took Anders down one wing of the palace and as the music faded, Hawke relaxed. He stopped outside one room and tried the door. Locked. No problem. He handed the glasses to Anders and fished his lock-picks from a pocket.

“Really Garrett? You brought those with you?” Anders said with exasperation. Hawke just grinned and knelt to unlock the door.

It was a piece of cake and he had them in the room in under a minute. As the door closed, Anders handed a glass to Hawke. They looked at each other and Hawke grinned. “Cheers,” he said and held out the glass.

“Cheers,” Anders replied, and they clinked glasses.

Hawke drank deeply and set the empty glass on a…dresser? Hawke looked around the room for the first time. It was dim, but there was light filtering in through the window. It was a bedroom. A very opulent bedroom.

“Oh,” Hawke said and pursed his lips.

Anders set his glass next to Hawke’s and then grabbed Hawke’s hands. He pulled Hawke towards the bed with a mischievous grin. Hawke was loving the half-mask because it allowed him to see all of Anders’ emotions.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hawke asked, returning the grin.

“It seems such a waste, this big bed being so very empty…” Anders released one of Hawke’s hands and pushed up Hawke’s mask to reveal his face. “And since I have you here alone with me…” That grin again.

“Oh,” Hawke repeated.  When Anders’ knees hit the edge of the bed, they both tumbled onto it.

Hawke found himself pinning Anders to the bed, forearms framing his face. Anders still wore his mask and Hawke found that excited him further. The slight mystery and the way Anders’ eyes peered out from the mask, pupils wide. He leaned down and brushed his lips lightly across Anders’. Anders pressed up, deepening the kiss. He tasted of Anders, but also the sweetness of the wine. Hawke savoured that taste for a minute before drawing back.

They were both breathless and Anders laughed. It was a marvellous sound and Hawke swooped in, dragging his tongue along Anders’ neck where he knew he was sensitive, making Anders laugh and squirm.

Anders retaliated, leaning up to nip and kiss his way along Hawke’s neck. He pushed aside the fabric of the robe’s hood to bite at the muscle where Hawke’s neck met his shoulder. Hawke moaned quietly.

Anders kept up his attentions until there was the sound of the door handle rattling behind him.

Had they locked the door? Hawke shushed Anders’ giggles with a hand over his mouth. Anders responded by dragging his tongue along Hawke’s palm. Hawke shot him a look as a muffled voice said in Orlesian, “Who’s in there?”

There was more door rattling and then the sound of footsteps retreating.

“He’s probably off to get the guard. Or the keys. Or both,” Hawke said, pushing up and off the bed. He held out his hand and helped Anders up. “Wait here.”

Hawke walked quietly to the door and opened it a crack. He peered into the hallway just in time to see a guard round the corner and head in their direction. Hawke quickly shut the door.

“Time to go my love. But not that way.” Hawke glanced around the room for a second exit. There were the double doors leading out onto the balcony. He grabbed Anders’ hand.  “This way.”

It wasn’t the first time Hawke had left a bedroom by jumping off a balcony, but it was the first time his lover was coming with him. He glanced over the railing and didn’t see anyone in the garden below.

“The coast is clear,” Hawke said as he slipped over the side and grabbed the trellis with one hand, the other still gripping Anders’. He descended a rung as Anders climbed up onto the railing after him. They could hear the rattle of keys in the door from the room behind them, but as Hawke glanced over into Anders’ face time seemed to stop. The light from the lamps below played off the copper edges of Anders’ hair and it looked like it was dancing fire flowing from the edges of the mask. The wine and excitement had coloured Anders’ cheeks a lovely dusky rose and his eyes were a deep warm brown. Hawke couldn’t help it, he was drawn in. He leaned across the open air, clinging to the trellis, and brushed his nose against Anders’.

“I love you,” Hawke whispered. He closed his eyes as his lips met Anders’ and for a moment he felt like he was floating on air.

“I love you too, Garrett.” Anders grinned against Hawke’s lips. “But we should probably get moving.”

Hawke laughed, giving Anders’ hand one last squeeze before releasing it to make his escape down into the garden. When he reached the bottom he hopped the last couple rungs and turned to help Anders. He gripped Anders’ waist and lifted him from the trellis, setting him down gently.

“We should get back to the party,” Anders said somewhat reluctantly.

“Or,” Hawke said with a smile, “we can maintain the tradition of my father’s robe and you can run away with me right now.”

“Garrett, we are already –“ Hawke put a finger to Anders’ lips and shushed him.

Hawke took Anders’ hand in his and began dragging him through the garden. “Come.  Let’s elope.”

“Elope?” Anders blinked, dazed, as he was guided around hedges and benches.

“Yes. Elope. Right now.”

“Yes,” Anders said, suddenly exuberant. He grinned at Hawke, squeezing his hand. “Think there’s a Chantry still open?”

“If not, we’ll find a ship’s captain at a tavern. Isabela would love that story.” Hawke leaned in and kissed Anders’ cheek.

“I think I’d rather that than the Chantry,” Anders said with a laugh.

“Right. Then to the pier!” Hawke gave Anders one more, lingering kiss before once again dragging him through the garden of the Winter Palace and towards the exit. Towards the rest of their life together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Go check out the rest of [mypurplesummer's work](http://mypurplesummer.tumblr.com/) over on tumblr! I loved working with them on this. The Malcom's Bequest was their idea and I really wanted to include it.
> 
> As always, I need to thank my editor Leif for reading and helping smooth this out. :D


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